Once a thief
by baller-annie
Summary: part 1 of my Francine Desmond and Nick Grant spin-off nobody but me asked for. Francine catches a major career curveball when a promotion to a new department comes with an unlikely partner. How will the two navigate their working relationship, as well as their personal issues?
1. Prologue

**October 1987, New York**

"He's not showing up." Francine sunk into her stool, checking out her wrist watch for the fifth time in two hours.

"He will." Lee replied from a couple of seats away as he popped a peanut in his mouth. "Nick Grant doesn't make a reservation at one of the most expensive restaurants in Manhattan and just bail."

"I'm waiting another half hour, then you owe me lunch." she pointed a manicured finger in his direction to make her point come across.

The agency had been after Nick's tail for weeks now. Just a short month before they'd got another P22, signaling Nick's arrival in the United States through LAX. According to turkish authorities, he'd only been back in prison for a few months when he once again managed to escape the maximum security facility - God knows how - sending Lee and Francine on man-hunt all over Europe. The week before they'd finally managed to track down one of his aliases in New York, and the two agents were ready for the final act of the show.

Francine wasn't particularly familiar with Nick's history, except for the little stories she heard from a frustrated Lee over the years, which was what prompted Billy to urge her to join her colleague on the man-hunt. The casual contact approach was becoming too predictable. Billy needed a fresh face, a female fresh face specifically, to keep an unsuspecting Nick occupied while Lee called for back-up. Francine was only too happy to oblige, excited about the prospect of seducing someone under the age of fifty for a change, and relishing the thought of all the shopping she could get to once their mission was over.

Lee's radio buzzed, the backup guys informing him Nick was approaching the building.

"Showtime." Lee announced, flashing Francine a smile as he got up and went into hiding in the back stairwell behind the kitchen.

Nick stepped into the restaurant, smoothing his tie and grey linen suit. The maitre d' at the entrance informed him that his table was gonna be ready in fifteen minutes, inviting him to get a drink at the bar while he waited.

As he scanned the room for an unoccupied stool something, or rather someone, caught his eyes. Reflected in the mirror behind the bartender, a rather attractive golden-haired young woman sulked, twirling the umbrella on her drink.

To be honest he'd planned to fly solo that night, but hell, who was he to deny a lady a chance to turn her frown upside down?

He puffed out his chest and slid past to the woman to take a seat next to her, nodding politely. She nodded back, smiling faintly.

"Excuse me, can i have another one of this?" she held out her empty glass to the bartender.

"Take it from an old man who's seen a lotta lonely broads over the years," the man replied, turning around to refill the drink. "Whoever you've been waiting for the past two hours, i don't think he's coming. And he if he is, he's not worth waiting for."

"I agree," Nick interjected as he sat, before turning towards the bartender who was now serving Francine's drink. "A Martini dry, for me. Thanks."

Francine turned toward him, taking a sip of her drink. "Do you, now?"

"Any man leaving a beautiful lady such as yourself in the lurch for hours is not worthy of that name."

Francine groaned inwardly. _Did Nick's women really fall for those corny lines?_

"I'm Kelly." she lied, extending her hand.

"James." he lied right back, surprising her by softly brushing her knuckles with his lips. "Delighted."

She giggled girlishly, shoving her hair out of her face to expose her neckline."What an interesting accent! where is it from?"

"Take a guess." he raised an eyebrow, a flirtatious glint sparking in his brown eyes.

"Is it an island?" she played along.

"Yes. Doesn't really narrow it down, though, doesn't it?"

Francine was about to reply, when a voice echoed from the back of the restaurant. She froze on the spot as she felt a clammy hand touching her shoulder. "Francine, it's me, Gordon Hunter?"

She turned around, coming face to face with a rubicund bald man in his forties.

"I'm sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else."

"No, it's you ... the Hungarian invitational, 1979? you're Lee Gorvandlecheck's friend! you wore that red dress with the slit down the side," he continued, his drunken gaze running down past her skirt. "i never forget a good pair of legs."

"It wasn't me, i assure you. I've never ever set foot out of the country." she gritted her teeth, seething internally at the man's terrible timing and even worse manners. If she hadn't been undercover she would have had him on the ground, clutching at his groin and begging for mercy.

"Hey!" Nick firmly raised a hand between Francine and the man. "If the lady says she doesn't know you, she doesn't."

"Stay out of it, _mate_." the man slurred.

"I think you should leave." Nick threatened firmly.

"I'm not going anywhere. Maybe you should go."

"Maybe we will. Shall we?" Nick extended his hand to Francine.

Francine pondered her options. She could decline, blowing up the whole operation on her own, or she could follow him, hoping he wouldn't blow it up himself without even realizing it.

So, she took his hand. He escorted her outside the building and lead her to the end of the curb, where a few people waited for their turn to cross the street.

Nick fidgeted nervously with his leg, then looked to his left and his right. Finally, the light turned green.

"Darling, it was lovely to meet you." he quickly kissed Francine's cheek. "Say hi to our friend Stetson for me, will you? ciao!"

Francine didn't even have the time to process what he told her, because the man had already disappeared into the oncoming traffic.

"He's making a run for it! that son of a -" she cursed, "Stop that man!" she then yelled, pushing her way through the crowd. Unfortunately for her, the plea fell on deaf ears, her voice muffled by the chaos of strangers hurriedly coming and going.

She had been left to her own means and without Lee on tow, she had no possibility of cornering Nick. Keeping sight of the man was becoming more and more difficult as he zigzagged through the sidewalk. She had to think fast.

She saw her chance when a pick-up truck filled to the brim with bushels of plants and flowers strode past her, heading into Nick's direction. She hooked her hands on the back of the contraption, using her feet for leverage. Hoisting herself up, she jumped face first into some orchids.

Removing some leaves from her field of vision, she peered into crowd to find her target. Hopefully he hadn't gone too far in the few seconds it took her to maneuver herself.

She couldn't see him for the life of her, until a shiny reflection hit her eyes, making her wince momentarily.

There he was, hidden between a large group of dowdy tourists admiring a trinkets display. Even as he tried to blend in with a tacky ' I heart NYC ' hat perched on his head he stood out, thanks to his Cartier watch.

Francine waited until the truck reached the trinkets display, carefully calculating her timing, and lept forward to tackle Nick, sending the twosome crashing together on the hard concrete with a thump.

A crowd of curious people quickly gathered around them, expressing worry and excitement in various languages. Some passerbys whistled, mistaking the attack for a passionate romp.

"Nick Grant, you're under arrest. Again." she panted, blowing a stray hair out of her face while holding down his wrists.

He eyed her appreciatively, before flashing one of his million dollar smiles. "Not the worst way to go to the pokey, i have to say."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Francine snapped back as she picked herself up and cuffed Nick's wrists. "Because you're not gonna see another woman, or man, for a _long_ time once you're back in Turkey."

She gestured towards the backup team, who just made it to the scene. "All yours, boys."

"Say, Miss ... " Nick turned around, letting the question linger hoping she'd take the bait.

"Desmond." she bit out.

"What are you doing, in about, two to five years?"

"Hopefully not chasing you around the country."

"Oh, but i've so enjoyed throwing you and Lee off your trails."

"It's so nice to know that this is a fun game for you, while we're out here wasting precious time and resources. Goodbye, mister Grant."

Nick was forcefully shoved into the squad van. He turned around to see Francine still on the sidewalk and he winked in her direction, waving his cuffed hands, before the vehicle disappeared from her vision field.

Francine peered down at her three hundred dollar-worth velvet dress which was covered in dirt, leaves, cigarette butts and a liquid she'd rather remained unidentified. Not to mention her ripped stockings and white satin six-inch heels.

If this was the last she'd ever see of Nick Grant, she'd die a happy woman.


	2. Chapter 2

The next two weeks went by quickly for Francine, her New York shenanigans a memory of the past, the kind she would recount during an office holiday party to entertain her bored, tipsy colleagues.

It was during one busy monday morning that she was called from her desk to Billy's office to discuss a matter of 'utmost urgency'.

"Have a seat, Francine." he urged her, suppressing a smirk whose meaning she couldn't quite interpret.

Once they were both settled down, he took a deep breath before fishing an envelope out of his desk and handing it to her.

"Don't open it yet. Just hear me out first." he explained, crossing his hands on top of each other. "I know in the past few years, with Amanda's presence and so may changes at the agency you've been struggling - "

"Oh, no, Sir, i wouldn't say I -"

"Don't interrupt."

"Sorry, Sir."

"I was saying, we both know you have outgrown your role at the agency, it's time you move on."

"So you're sending me out like this?!" she jumped in, standing up from her chair and pacing furiously. "No thank you for my years of dedicated service to the country, no medal of honor, i mean, Amanda's got like, four already, but not me, i just have a lousy letter and it's that, hasta la vista baby!"

"Francine, you're running a hole through the carpeting, now sit down and open the letter."

She reluctantly went back to the chair, sitting rigidly on it as she nervously opened the envelope.

Billy grinned as he saw her reaction. "Close your mouth or you're gonna catch flies."

"It's a letter of recommendations!"

"For our new white collar crimes branch. I couldn't think of anyone more perfect for the job than you."

"I'm such a jerk, I apologize. This is lovely."

"So, it's a yes?"

"Will i get a raise?"

"Thirty per cent."

She crunched the numbers in her head. "Nice."

"They need an answer by tomorrow morning. Can i count you in?"

"Absolutely. Thank you, Billy," she stood up to shake his hand, smiling from ear to ear. "You won't regret it."

"There's just one more thing." Billy said, holding up a finger as he dialed a number on his phone.

"Yes, Melrose here. Is he in yet? Hmm, hmm, ok. Perfect. Let him in."

"Who are we waiting for?"

"You'll see in a minute."

A few seconds later, somebody knocked on the office door. When Francine turned to look at the mysterious guest, she felt as if she was dropped from cloud nine to the pits of hell.

"Hello, Francine, dear!" Nick greeted her with a thousand-watt smile. Before she knew it he was holding her shoulders and kissing her on each cheek like they were old high school pals.

"What is he doing here?!" Francine hissed, completely ignoring the subject of the question.

"It just so happens that Mr. Grant over here has an incredible amount of knowledge and connection in regards to white collar crimes - "

"As a criminal!" Francine threw her hands up in the air.

"And he cut himself a nice deal with the government to help us out in exchange for parole."

"Unbelievable. I still havent's been reimbursed the very expensive outfit i got destroyed, and he's walking free." she sighed, crossing her arms.

"You need a partner. Working solo on this job has never helped anybody."

"How much are you getting paid?" she finally addressed the man in question.

"Less than you, trust me."

"Is it true?" she turned to Billy.

"Housing and a minimal amount for basic expenses. All extra expenses will have to be business-related and will be thoroughly checked. Francine, i know the circumstances are a little unorthodox, but i assure you, i wouldn't have put you two together if i didn't think you'd make a great team."

"Francine, you won't even notice my presence, i swear. You're the consumed agent, the master. I'm gonna be your little grasshopper, i'll be your shadow, merely consulting you whenever the need arises."

"See?" Billy said, "So willing, so cooperative already."

"I truly believe there's no 'I' in team." Nick declared proudly.

"Not after i punch yours out." Francine mumbled.

"What?" Billy asked.

"Nothing." Francine forcibly smiled. "I can't wait to start."

"Great." Billy began pushing both of them out of his office. "You start next week, meanwhile, get to know each other better, build that team spirit."

"Go team!" Francine laughed phonily, making a fist up in the air as the door closed behind them. Her laughter quickly faded as she and Nick walked through the bullpen.

"Listen, buster." she stopped abruptly, pointing a finger in Nick's direction. "I've got my eyes on you."

"I'm flattered." he smiled cheekily.

"Well, don't be. I don't know what game you're playing, but if you're trying to pull one over me, or this agency, you chose the wrong place. One false move, and i'll have your head served on a platter to Dr Smyth. Are we clear?"

Nick suddenly got serious. "I assure you, my intentions are honorable."

"If only you knew how many double agents have told me that over the years."

"If we're gonna work together, we're gonna need to trust each other and put aside our personal feelings."

"Put aside our personal feelings? you're the one making flip remarks and hitting on me!"

"You're the one treating me like a hostage!"

"Technically, you are, sort of. A hostage of the government, that is."

Nick was about to retort when Francine's eyes wandered behind him, where her desk was.

"Wait, what's that?" she pointed to a sizable gift bag.

"Oh, that was a little welcome gift i got you in the spirit of teamwork, but if that's too personal for you," he remarked sarcastically, "I understand. I'll just take it back."

Francine smiled awkwardly, picking up the bag. "Well, i guess it would be rude not to at least look at it, after all you did make an effort to buy this ... "

She didn't finish the sentence, as she was left speechless by the haute couture clothes an pair of shoes currently in her hands. There was no way those could be fake. She was a pro at spotting counterfeit based on the seaming, fabric quality, and labeling. These were all originals, and from the latest fall collections no less.

"Did you steal these?" she whispered.

"Of course not! i might be an international con artist, but a petty thief, that i've never been."

"They're very expensive."

"I still got some savings of my own, believe it or not."

"From your old job?"

"No need to be so technical. I ruined your clothes, i'm paying you back. Be grateful."

"I am, i suppose."

"Look inside, there's more." he said, peeking inside the bag.

"Swiss chocolates." Francine gasped, holding the box low, so no one would see it.

"Some of the finest. A little birdie told me you like those."

Francine crossed her arms. "I'm gonna kill Amanda."

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me ... " Nick reassured her. " ... partner?"

Nick extended his hand, and Francine couldn't help but melt a little at the nice gesture and earnestness in his voice. She still didn't completely trust him, but she decided to stay cautiously optimistic for the time being. As they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

She extended her own hand, meeting him in a confident handshake.

"Ok, partner."


	3. Chapter 3

Nick made it to IFF's Offices in one piece, which was a victory, considering he'd just walked two miles during an unusually hot mid-autumn day.

He took a second to remove his ID from the suit pocket where it had had fallen, and when he raised his eyes, a female figure was leaning on the wall.

Francine lifted her shirt cuff to look at her watch. "It's eight-forty."

"I can see that." Nick pointed at the wall clock behind her.

"You're late."

"Again, i can see that."

She huffed, gesturing for him to follow her. They entered a hallway, making their way through the intricate maze leading to the back of the building.

Francine took in Nick's appearance as he stepped beside her. He was wearing dark sunglasses and his dark hair were tousled, with a loose strand hanging from one side.

"You look rough. What happened to you?"

"I was out with a lady friend last night, if you must know. A delightful woman named Janice." He sighed wistfully, lost in his own thoughts. "We dined at a quaint italian restaurant, strolled down the Potomac in the moonlight and topped it off with a nightcap at her place. The perfect evening ... well, almost."

"Almost?"

"Her husband decided to cut his business trip short."

Francine rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"So, I had to walk here, since she was my ride."

"You couldn't catch a cab?"

"Francine, do i look like a man who carries cash?"

"I don't even know what that means." she came to a screeching halt in front of a big red exit door guarded by security. "Just don't be late again, ok?"

The sun outside felt even stronger and hotter than before after an hour inside an air conditioned environment. Francine shielded her eyes as a ray hit a foil package left littering on the concrete by some uncivilized soul, shooting straight on her retinas and leaving colored dots dancing in front of her. She poked into her purse looking for her sunglasses, but of course, she had left them in the car. Just her luck.

"Here!" Nick honked from one of the golf carts parked on the far side of the lot, gathering her attention. She swore she couldn't turn for a second, and he was gone like a damn child! She was never especially fond of children, and now she was stuck playing cops and robbers with a juvenile conman. Granted, an extremely handsome and charming conman, but still, what a nuisance he could be.

She skittered towards the cart as fast as her heels allowed her and hopped into the vehicle, pushing Nick out of the way to replace him in the driving seat.

"What," Nick tried to joke, "Do you need a special license to drive a golf cart in the States?"

"Ha-ha, very funny." she deadpanned, clearly unamused.

They took off, the light wind caused by the cart's motion a welcome relief.

"Just thought I'd bring some levity."

Her mouth didn't move by the slightest.

Nick sank slightly into the seat. "So, we're not doing that, uh?"

"I don't know what _that_ is, but I'd edge my bets on no."

They rode around a large building that to civilians may have appeared as a soundstage, but actually housed several of IFF's most recent offices, including their newly founded white collar crime division. The cart came to a halt next to a small set of stairs, and before Francine could step out of the vehicle, Nick was already by her side, offering her his hand.

She thanked him, surprised by the kind gesture.

They quickly moved into the building past a small hallway, and into a supply closet that much like one in the main IFF building, was actually a secret elevator.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're terribly stuck-up?" Nick questioned, as Francine pushed the third floor button.

She turned around, staring at him wide-eyed, her blue eyes fired up. "Has anyone ever told you that you're too brazen for your own good?"

"Constantly."

"Good."

They rode in silence for a few seconds, before Francine spoke up again.

"I'm not stuck up." she stressed. "I'm _plenty_ of fun. I'll have you known, there's several federal agents and some KGB operatives that could attest to that. You clearly don't know me at all."

"Perhaps we could change that?" Nick raised a hopeful eyebrow in her direction.

Damn it, the man was relentless. The last thing she needed to do was entertaining Nick's continuous passes at her, no matter how much she wished to put an end to the romantic dry spell she had been experiencing for the past months and get into some good-old verbal sparring. She was grown enough to admit that yes, there was a spark between her and Nick. A physical one, if not a personal one, at least. Unfortunately, Francine Desmond didn't let herself be compromised. The brief and disastrous resurrection of her romance with Jonathan, not to mention her on-and-off affair with Lee, were good enough examples of why business didn't mix with pleasure. Then again, a little teasing here and there never hurt anyone and seeing Nick on his toes was certainly amusing.

"You only have two years, and they couldn't even begin to catch you up with me."

"Then, the sooner we start, the better."

"A lifetime wouldn't be enough, really." Francine concluded as the elevator bell dinged, and they stepped onto the third floor.

Francine audibly gasped as she and Nick set foot on the carpeted office floors. The space was easily double the size of the Q bureau, featuring a spacious and finely decorated reception area, a vault, and one inner office. She delighted at the thought of rubbing all that information in Lee's face the next time she saw him. Of course, she had the minor (ok, maybe a little more than minor) inconvenience of having to share the space with Nick, but that was a price she was willing to pay for the generous raise bump she got, not to mention the chance to mingle with society's cream of the crop while on duty.

"It's really nice, isn't it?" a mousy voice echoed from the far corner of the lobby, as a pretty redhead holding a plant emerged from the vault.

She couldn't have been over twenty-five, with a small face and big green eyes that gave her almost a cartoonish expression, much like the subject of a Margaret Keane painting. Her slender figure was emphasized by a flowery wrap dress tied at the waist by a belt, making her look like the perfect blend of professional and approachable.

"I'm Linda. I mean, miss Thompson." she introduced herself as the trio quickly exchanged greetings.

"I didn't know we were gonna have a secretary, how delightful!" Nick exclaimed, giving the woman an appreciative once-over.

"Executive assistant." she corrected him, before realizing she was still holding her plant. "Oh, I almost forgot. Here."

She unceremoniously shoved the plant in Nick's hands, who in turn, examined its leaves and buried his nose in them.

"It's a silver crown," she explained. "It's for good luck. Fen Shui says it must be placed towards east under the sun. It should be perfect for your office."

Francine opened the office door to take a peek at the locale. "It is a _little_ drab, I suppose."

"What's Fen Shui?" Nick questioned.

"It's an ancient Chinese art." Francine replied, closing back the door. "It consists in arranging your living environment in a way that balances Yin and Yang. I heard it's _very_ trendy right now."

Nick raised a skeptical brow. He fancied himself to be a rational man and found all those pseudo-sciences that had been coming out in the past few years quite silly.

"Thank you very much, miss Thompson." he lied, an exaggerated smile plastered on his face. "What a thoughtful gesture."

"You're welcome. I look forward to assisting you in any way that I can."

"Speaking of which - " Francine jumped in. "Would you be a darling and make us a pot of coffee?"

"Tea for me. One spoonful of sugar." Nick added.

The woman nodded, heading for the area beside her desk where a makeshift kitchenette was setup.

A few minutes later, two steaming mugs were delivered at their respective desks.

Nick turned towards Francine and smirked. "Very nice lady, if not a little odd."

"Don't _even_ think about it." Francine pointed a finger in his direction.

"I didn't do anything." Nick replied innocently, taking a sip of his tea.

Francine on the other hand, blew on her own mug, waiting for the hot liquid to cool off. "Good. Keep it that way."

"Besides, I could never." Nick shook his head and put down the tea. "The girl can't make a cuppa to save her life."

"Tea? that's a deal breaker?"

"Tea is an art. The way it's brewed, the variety, sugar or milk ... it tells more about someone's character than anyone could ever find on a night-long tete-a-tete."

"Seriously?"

"I bet I can guess how you take yours."

"Sure." she snorted.

"Hmmm ..." he studied her for a second, "No sugar, no milk. A flowery variety, perhaps? Strong and decisive, yet feminine and elegant. Correct me if i'm wrong."

"Jasmine." she admitted, without taking her eyes off her paperwork.

Nick smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

"Just a lucky guess." Francine mumbled. "And you have the guts to frown at fen-shui ... I bet you don't believe in astrology either."

"Don't tell me you believe in that? that's folklorist superstition."

"It's not. It's a practice as old as civilization itself. I bet I can guess your sign."

"By all means, wow me."

Francine put a finger under her chin, feigning contemplation.

"Charming, superficial, coquettish … " she narrowed her eyes and paused for effect. " … classic libra."

"Charming, huh?"

"Don't change the subject. I got it right, didn't i?"

"Just a lucky guess." he repeated her words from a couple of minutes before, avoid eye contact by perusing a folder. "You had one in twelve chances to get it right."

"I've dated my fair share of libras. I know them when i see them."

Nick raised his head. "Really? How many?"

"It's hard to tell. I've dated every single sign on the wheel, multiple times, really."

"Hm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?" she insisted.

"It' just, most women wouldn't be so open about having such as, shall we say, colorful, romantic past."

"Does it bother you?" Francine asked, ready to pick a fight.

"On the contrary, i find that kind of honesty refreshing."

"Well, whatever a woman says will be seen as wrong one way or another anyways, there's no pointing in lying, at least for me."

She went back to her paperwork, before lifting her head once again.

"Oh, speaking of lies, that smile you gave Linda was so exaggerated. Nobody needs to see that far into someone's mouth unless they're a dentist. For a con-man, your acting chops are terrible. "

"Former con-man."

"Right." she side-eyed him, before finally taking a sip of her own coffee and recoiling in disgust.

"Coffee bad too?"

"You have no idea."

"You wanna trade?" Nick lifted his cup in her direction.

Francine laughed, shaking her hand, and soon they were both laughing.


	4. Chapter 4

Nick stifled a yawn. He and Francine spent the past two hours in relative quiet, filing paperwork and occasionally engaging in strictly business-related small talk. His attempts to engage in more small talk had been vain, as Francine seemed to have a one-track mind when it came to working. Her focus was unmatched when something caught her attention, he'd discovered, and he briefly wondered if it was true for other areas of her life as well. He could only hope to find out soon enough.

"Knock, knock." Linda sing-songed, opening the office door and rapped on the frame.

"Yes?" Francine asked.

"May I come in?" Linda asked in turn.

"Yes, you're here, just, come in." Francine replied in an exasperated tone. "What's up?"

"You have your first case!" she wiggled a stack of papers in her hands. Nick moved over and seized it eagerly, far too happy to finally experience some on-the-field action.

"Douglas Newlyn." he read aloud.

" _The_ Douglas Newlyn?" Francine perked up.

Nick looked at her over his shoulder, clearly puzzled.

"Recently divorced tycoon? number thirty-six in the 1977 forty under forty bachelors in DC list?" Francine explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, now he's number one on the 'most wanted by art thieves under fifty' list. His gallery got robbed."

* * *

"So, was Newlyn ever one of your, ahem, male companions?" Nick asked, examining the fine carvings on Newlyn's office desk.

"I never had the pleasure." Francine replied absentmindedly, pacing the floor and flipping though a booklet.

"His loss, surely."

"What's it to you, anyways?"

"I was just wondering, in the interest of the case. Conflict of interest and all that."

"No conflict." She lifted her head and smiled.

"Great." he smiled back awkwardly.

Francine returned her attention to her booklet before speaking again.

"I don't get it." she rotated the item in her hands, as if the gesture could enlighten her regarding the meaning of the painting in front of her. "That's worth half a million dollars?"

The art piece in question depicted a blue stylized human figure on a white canvas. Around the genderless blob, red and yellow swirls formed a tangled web, where it almost appeared as though tiny eyes were staring at the viewer, rather than the other way around. Francine couldn't put her finger on it but she found it vaguely unsettling.

"I gather you're not fond of modern art." Nick said.

"It's so obscene ... so - primitive."

"A painting that doesn't shock isn't worth painting." Nick recited, almost theatrically. "Marcel Duchamp."

"Isn't he the one that made that dreadful urinal sculpture?"

"Yes."

"I rest my case." Francine stated matter-of-factly.

"As I do mine." Nick replied, sure to have won this set of verbal ping-pong.

The office door craked open, capturing Nick and Francine's attention. When they turned around, a lanky man with a thick gray mustache and a matching head of hair stood in front of them.

Francine couldn't believe her eyes. Gone was the youthful and dapper bachelor she lusted over in her twenties. What stood in front of her was a shell of his former self. Not only his hair had grayed considerably, but he lost a good thirty pounds. His green eyes were still as gorgeous as ever, she noted, but now dark circles surrounded them, making them look paler. Could the divorce have brought such a drastic change in such short time?

"Mr. Newlyn, I assume?" Nick extended his hand to the man, who squeezed it back.

"You must be Grant and Desmond from the agency. Please take a seat." he urged the duo, as he plopped down behind his desk. "I can't say i'm not surprised. When they said they were bringing their best guys, i was expecting, well ..."

"Guys?" Francine replied dryly.

The man smiled sligthly. "You gotta admit, a female fed, you don't see that everyday. My, times are changing!" he addressed Nick with a cheeky conspiratorial look, " If i knew gals like her worked for the men in black, i wouldn't have let myself get kicked out of the navy so fast!"

Nick, who in all honestly had no reply to the man's male bravado humor, looked at the ground, cringing inwardly. He then pulled the chair for Francine, before sitting himself. She gripped the armrest on both sides as she sat, and took a deep calming breath before speaking up. "Mr. Newlyn, if you don't mind, let's get to the point. We understand you had a theft."

"Yes, last night around two am. They ransacked our collection. Over seven million dollars, gone," the man snapped his fingers "just like that."

"How did they bypass security?" Francine questioned.

"George - the guard, he let them in. They were dressed as policemen, you see."

"So, he saw their faces." Francine said.

"All I know is that there were two of them."

"I think we 'll need to have a private chat with this George, if you don't mind."

"Of course. He's a little shaken right now, so go easy on him. He's a nice young man, just a little simple, if you catch my drift."

A few short minutes later, they joined George in the control panel room. True to his boss's word, he didn't look like your typical security guard. He was relatively stocky, but his shoulder length ratty hair and puka-shell necklace clashed with his crisp uniform.

"Run us through what happened, if you don't mind." Nick asked him.

"It was just a normal night," he began, taking a seat in between Nick and Francine in front of the control panel. "Then, around two a.m., two policemen buzzed in. They said the neighbors called them because they saw some suspicious activity around the building. They showed me their ID's through the monitor and I let them in." He looked sheepishly down to his feet. "You must think i'm an airhead."

"No." Francine tried to reassure him, even though that was exactly what she was thinking.

"I thought Mr. Newlyn here was gonna fire me, but he didn't. He's the coolest. Like, a bit old school, but fair, you know?"

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Francine muttered, remembering his comments from a few minutes before.

Nick shot her a sideway glance and changed the subject. "Back to that night. What happened when they came in?"

"I asked them to see their ID's again up close and they didn't seem to mind. They looked legit. I took them to a tour of the gallery, and that's when I felt the gun on my back. We went in the art deposit and they handcuffed me to a pillar and gagged me with a chloroformed rag. When I woke up, they were gone, i think, because i didn't hear a peep until the real cops showed up later."

"Do you remember what they looked like?"

"White … mid-forties, tops. Average height and weight. I don't know, man. I saw them only for a couple of minutes before I was out, it all happened really fast."

"What about the security footage?"

"They destroyed it before leaving."

"Great." Francine replied sarcastically, rubbing her temple. "Listen, George, anything you may remember about that night, don't hesitate to call us right away. Your boss has our number. Anything could be helpful. Ok?"

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"You seem upset." Nick noted as he drove them back to the office.

"I'm just thinking. This doesn't make any sense ... something's off. It's too neat, too perfect."

"You think it might be an inside job?"

"It's a possibility. Why would you say that?"

"Newlyn's office seemed awfully bare for an art collector."

"Maybe he likes the minimalist look."

"Check page 20." Nick said, tossing her the booklet she'd been reading before.

Francine opened it, and found a picture of Newlyn sitting at his desk occupying the top half of the page. Behind him stood two paintings, while artifacts belonging to different tribal cultures sat on an antique cabinet.

"I don't remember seeing any of those today, or the cabinet, do you?" he asked her.

"No." Francine replied, turning the booklet around. "This was published three months ago. What happened to all that stuff?"

"I think we should look into it. If he's having financial trouble and selling his belongings, that might give him quite a motive. I'm sure the insurance premium for the stolen paintings is considerable."

"It would be a great way to have his cake an eat it too. I'll have Linda run a background check. What about George?"

"Being grossly Incompetent wasn't a crime, last time i checked, unless you're referring to his strong smell of grass."

"You noticed that too, uh?"

"Hard not to. I don't understand why Newlyn hasn't fired him."

"That's what I was getting at. Maybe they were in it together."

"Nah ... he's not clever enough to do blackmail, and i highly doubt Newlyn would have willingly offered him a piece of the reward."

"So, what do we do now?" Francine asked, clearly dejected, before her stomach contracted, growling in an unmistakable manner.

"Lunch?" Nick replied, pointing a diner down the road.

Francine was only too happy to agree.


	5. Chapter 5

**** A/N ** I just wanna take a second to thank everyone who took the time to follow, leave a comment, or message me. Writing is a thankless task, but you guys make it so much sweeter. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's short but packed with surprises.  
**

Francine and Nick's investigations might not have been a success so far, but their lunch sure was. They consumed their meals with zest - she a greek salad marinated with chicken, he a simple club sandwich – and the conversation flowed more naturally than it had a couple of hours before, going from the Newlyn case to more personal inquires and vice versa with ease.

Nick mused about the cause of this pleasant turn for the better between them, and concluded that Francine clearly suffered from an incurable case of morning crankiness. He made it a point to not to go too hard on her before noon from that point on.

They wrapped their lunch round one and drove back to their office, hunger sated and thirst quenched.

When they arrived, Linda sat back at her desk, remains of a burrito in one hand and an incoming fax in the other. She kept chewing while the machine beeped and the pages rolled out after one another. When she looked up she saw her colleagues and beamed.

"Heh ah gash dem reshedem of deh beffron sheh" she mumbled, mouthful of burrito.

"Swallow, honey." Francine begged.

Linda gulped and took a breather. "I got the results of your background checks. They're coming in now."

Nick moved close to the fax machine and lifted the papers. "Let's take a look, shall we? … Douglas Newlyn. Only child. Born in 1940 - old money." He read. "Art Degree from the Sorbonne in 1963, blah blah … married Pauline Harrington in 1979, divorced in 1986. No children. Criminal record clean as a whistle."

"Hmm, interesting." Francine drawled, checking out the other slips of paper.

"What?"

"You were right. Look at those bank statements." she tilted the paper in his direction. "There are dozens of deposits for hundreds of thousands of dollars in his bank account."

"He's been selling assets and art pieces for months."

"Why would he do that?"

The fax machine began buzzing again, and after a few seconds, spat up a final slip of paper.

"You might wanna check this out." Linda said somberly as she lifted her eyes from the paper.

Nick tore the paper from her, and as he and Francine read, their expressions soon matched their secretary's.

"I guess that could give us a motive." was the only reply Francine could muster.

"Back to the gallery." Nick sighed.

* * *

"It's true." Newlyn admitted, looking down. "I found out during a routine check up a few months ago. Six months, a year if i was lucky, they said. So, what i could i do?"

"So, you admit to staging the robbery?" Francine asked.

"Absolutely not! I was knee dept in debt from gambling, i admit that. The divorce was brutal on my finances too, and i have alimony to pay Pauline … thousands of dollars a month. And for what, so she could parade her new man around town and keep her lavish lifestyle?!" he spat out bitterly, before recomposing himself. "Anyways, between that and the astronomical medical expenses … experimental treatments, you see, very avant-garde … i began selling things. But i would never, ever, put my gallery and my reputation at stake like that. I might be a dead man walking, but a man is only worth the legacy that he leaves after he's gone."

"What about Pauline? Nick asked. "Does she know about your condition?"

"No, she would freak out. She's a leech, sucking me out of every penny. She's been refusing to remarry so she could keep living off my money ... can you believe that?. If she found out her finances were running low, i don't know what she would do."

"Rob your gallery?" Francine suggested.

"As i said, i told nobody about my condition, and the robbers were men. You're barking at the wrong tree, A rotten tree, at that, but the wrong one."

"Fair enough." Nick conceded.

"But i still think we'll need to pay Pauline a visit. Just to rule her out." Francine added.

* * *

"My wife will be here in a minute." Rex Holbrook, a young man in his mid-thirties, greeted Francine and Nick at the entrance of his three-story mansion in Valley Springs. "She was just taking a dip in the pool. Make yourself at home."

He led his way through the arches in the hallways to the living room, where a sectional couch occupied a corner.

"This is a beautiful home." Francine smiled, taking a seat, while Nick paced the room. "You must've fought tooth and claws to snap a palace like this."

"Actually," Rex blushed. "It belongs to my wife. She won it over her divorce settling."

"I see." Francine replied, glad that the man took her bait so easily, "If i may ask, you're not married to Pauline, are you?"

"No."

"Then why do you say she's your wife?"

"She's my wife in spirit, a piece of paper won't make any difference."

"Maybe not for you, but for her ex, i'm sure it would be a relief, don't you think? Cutting ties with the past once and for all."

"I'm never gonna give him the satisfaction." A female voice echoed from the marble stairway behind Rex, where a slender figure in a silk robe dried her head while she descended. "If you suits are here on behalf of Douglas to steal my rightful money from me, tell him he can go to hell."

Nick was about to reply, when the woman removed the towel from her head, revealing her wet raven locks, steely blue eyes, and ruby lips.

"Excuse us, i need to confer with my partner for a second." He dragged Francine by one arm, backing her in a corner of the room.

"What is wrong with you? You look like you saw a ghost."

"Pauline is innocent." Nick whispered in her ear.

"How can you tell?"

"Because i was on a date with her last night."


	6. Chapter 6

"I assume you're here to talk about the robbery." Pauline said, sitting on a velvet armchair. "It's all over the front pages."

"Yes. Where were you last night between midnight and 3 a.m.?" Francine asked.

"You know where I was." She threw a quick sideways glance towards Nick. "Home."

She nervously reached for a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. She shook it before pulling one out, then slipped it between her shaky fingers and lit it with a match.

"Here?" Francine continued her queries.

"No, our apartment downtown. We go between that and here, depending on our work commitments."

Francine turned towards Rex. "Where you with her?"

"No, I was going on a business trip, a surgeons convention. Unfortunately, I started to feel queasy a few hours into the trip and decided to come back home. I'm never gonna eat a shrimp sandwich from a highway rest stop, that's for sure." He chuckled.

"You recovered quickly." she noted.

"Nothing a morning spent crouching on the toilet couldn't fix, if you excuse my crudeness."

"So, you can't vouch for you wife's whereabouts." Nick jumped in.

"I suppose I can't, but come on, she didn't do it."

"Funny, it's the same thing Mr. Newlyn said."

"Really? i'm surprised that dog is even bothering coming to my defense." Pauline snapped.

"From what i've gathered, things have not been going great between you two." Francine said.

"That's one way to put it. He's drowning in millions, and he complains about a few miserable dollars a month. The stingy bastard!"

Rex put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Pauline, don't talk like that!"

"I'll talk as i well damn please!" She shrieked at him, before regaining her cool and turning back to her guests. "I'm sorry, i'm a little on edge. I don't particularly enjoy being hounded."

She rubbed a hand over her temples, as the other one reached over her mouth to take a drag of her cigarette.

"It's okay, darling. I'll see Mister Grant and Miss Desmond to the door."

"No, i'll do it." She got up, leaving the cigarette on an ashtray. "The maid left some soup for you in the fridge. You go turn on the stove, i'll be right back."

When Rex was gone, Pauline led Nick and Francine to the entrance, then leaned on a pillar and crossed her arms. "So, let's have it. You were chatting about me after i came in. Am i wrong?"

"Why did you lie about your name?" Nick asked.

"Why did _you_?"

"Because that's what I do."

"And i'm a prominent figure in this town's social circles. I could never risk having my good name tarnished in the gossip pages like a cheap floozy."

Francine snickered. "You should've thought about that before stepping out with another man."

"Please, spare me the sermon." She shot her a glacial stare. "I do love Rex. He's warm, dependable, patient, perfect on paper, but perfect can get tiresome. Lunch at two, dinner at eight, couples tennis every Wednesday, dinner date at Berto's every friday night. Sometimes a girl needs a little thrill, that's all."

"Did you try skydiving?" Francine suggested snarkily.

"Listen, Janice – I mean, Pauline," Nick said, "We know you're innocent and I can vouch for you. I can be your alibi."

"Absolutely not. Rex can never find out. He's an understanding man, but he still has his pride … if he found out i've been seeing other men he could never bear the embarrassment. It would be over between us in a second … I can't let that happen."

"So, you would rather go to jail?" Francine asked.

"You've never been in love, have you?" Pauline turned towards her. She didn't reply, but her stunned look spoke volumes. "I would do anything to protect my relationship, i don't care the price. So … if that would be all, i have things to do."

"Yes, that's all." It's all Francine could say.

"I have a feeling it won't be the last we'll be seeing of you. For your sake, i hope i'm wrong." Nick told her.

"Goodbye, James." She kissed him softly on the cheek. "Goodbye Miss Desmond."

* * *

That night, Nick's slumber was interrupted by the incessant ringing of his phone. He ignored the first few rings, hoping that whoever the caller was, they would realize they had rung the wrong number and hung up. When the shrill sound didn't stop, he reluctantly woke, silently cursing his caller as he made his way to the living room.

"Hello?" He replied groggily, falling on the couch and rubbing a hand over his face.

"Turn on channel four." Francine went straight to the point.

He turned on a lamp and looked at the clock on the wall. "It's three in the morning."

"Turn on channel four!" She repeated, this time more urgently.

"Ok, ok. Don't yell! God!"

Nick slumped on the couch and turned on the tv on Channel four. On the screen, firemen worked in the darkness to extinguish a raging house fire.

"Neighbors alerted the Valley Springs fire department around midnight, when they noticed the strong smell of smoke and lights coming out of the villa." The anchorman explained. "Firemen arrived at the scene around fifteen minutes later, and worked tirelessly for over two hours to completely extinguish the flames. At the time of the accident, the only two people in the residence were Rex Holbrook, who suffered mild injuries, and his partner Pauline Newlyn, who, according to the investigators, tragically died in her sleep shortly after the fire erupted. More to come on our next edition. For channel four, i'm Dana Morse, and that's the news for this thursday morning."

As commercials rolled in, Nick sat frozen in place, phone still in his hands..

"So, what were you doing up at this time of night?" He asked Francine.

"Insomnia. Sometimes i leave the tv on as a background noise." She explained, then thought about what to say next. "I'm sorry about Pauline."

"I'm not sure i'm the one you should be extending condolences to." Nick chuckled sadly.

"You knew her better than i did, that's for sure."

"It always seems to be that way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nevermind. Listen, It's awfully late." He rubbed his face some more. "We'll talk tomorrow, alright?

"Uhm, sure. Try to get some sleep, ok? Don't dwell on this too much."

"You too, goodnight."

* * *

Douglas' residence was by no means as lavish as the one that brought Pauline to her death, but it was still respectable in size and architecture, leaving no doubt about the wealth of its owner. Francine passed a series of expensive sports cars on the sidewalk and crossed the large iron gate. After circling the driveway around a small fountain, she finally found a free parking spot and settled between two sports cars that screamed 'middle life crisis'.

Nick and Francine squeezed their way through the packed crowd inside the house, which, as spacious as it was, barely contained the hoards of people coming to say their last goodbyes.

"Quite the popular lady, our Pauline." Francine noted, scanning the room. "A lot of men."

Nick shot her an admonishing look. "Francine, please."

"You're very tense."

"I'm not particularly fond of funerals." He replied nervously, re-adjusting his tie.

"Well, try to relax. We don't wanna look like we're on duty here."

"Really, because you're the one picking apart every single person walking by."

"You're ridiculous. We're here to pay our respects. Of course, if a clue accidentally happened to fall into our lap, i wouldn't object to it." She told him, before eyeing the other side of the parlor, where people crowded around the biggest buffet table she'd ever seen in her life.

"Come on, you look like you could use a drink." She elbowed him.

"I heard it was a cigarette. She fell asleep with it, didn't even realize she was dying." An elderly man said in a ushed tone, as he scooped some salsa with a chip. "I always told her those darn things were gonna kill her, i just didn't think it was gonna be like this."

"Poor Rex," his wife added somberly, twirling a martini. "No wonder he didn't even come here today. He must be a wreck. No home, no wife ... that's no way for a man to live."

"No money either." The man shook his head. "He didn't get a penny because they weren't married. I bet Douglas is getting a kick out of this."

Francine and Nick pretended to sample the quiche selection as they listened intently on the conversation.

"His ex-wife is dead!" The woman hissed.

"They couldn't stand each other, you know ..."

"Pfft" She remarked, "All show! They were married seven years ... you don't just forget that in a few months. And he did offer to have the wake here, didn't he?"

"Well, either way Rex took his woman and his money. I'd be happy to see the rat on the street if he did that to me."

"Enough with all this talk about money, it's so vulgar. Especially at a funeral. Come on," She took him by the arm. "There's Tilly over there, we haven't seen her in years."

The couple departed, and Nick and Francine moved over to a secluded corner of the room.

"Everything seems to be coming back to Douglas, doesn't it? The robbery, Pauline's death." Francine whispered.

"It was an accident!"

"Awfully convenient. Douglas needs money for his cure and in the same week, he gets a huge insurance payout from the robbery and he doesn't have an ex-wife to support anymore?"

"He offered to host the wake, that lady said so."

"To divert suspicions, no doubt." She looked at the couch where Douglas sat crying, comforted by a few friends. "Look at him playing the grieving ex. Seems a little too dramatic for someone who had such harsh words for Pauline just a few days ago."

"Suppose," Nick conceded. "Just suppose, that maybe, he might have murdered her. How do you think he went on with it?"

He crossed his arms and shrugged, shooting a challenging look her way.

Francine sighed. "I admit, the details are fuzzy at the moment, but i'll get there."

"Call me when you do." Nick sneered.


	7. Chapter 7

**** A/N ** It's been a loong time. Let's just say writer's block, plus other projects, real life, and a good old dose of procrastination got in the way. This is not the end of the story, but we're edging close to that, so stick around because I will be posting the final chapter soon. Also, I have some ideas for more stories and if I can putline those out, there might be more afterwards. We'll see.**

"Just for the record, I think this is a waste of time." Nick frowned, as he inspected Douglas' underwear drawer for clues.

"Thanks for the information." Francine replied, as she rifled through a set of silk shirts in the closet. "Check the bookcase next."

"What exactly are we hoping to find, If I may ask?"

"Anything that might tie Douglas with Pauline's death. Receipts, a planner or a journal perhaps."

"Shouldn't we be leaving that to the police and focus on the robbery - the thing we've been hired to solve, remember?"

"I think there's a connection somewhere."

She turned around, shutting the closet door behind her.

"Listen, we've been over this. If we find nothing, I'll let it go. Ok?"

"You have five more minutes, not a second more."

Nick conceded. They rummaged through the rest of the room for a little longer, careful to put everything back in its place as it was, but with little result. The only thing they managed to discover was that Douglas was a neat freak. Not a spec of dust could be found, his books were categorized alphabetically by author, and his shirts by color. If such a meticulouss person had anything to hide, he would have probably put it in a place where no one would have thought of looking. Francine was just about to admit defeat, when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching the bedroom door.

"Here, quick!" She whispered in Nick's direction, dragging him under the bed frame with her.

"Here, no one will bother us." They heard Douglas say, as he shut the door behind himself. "Now, what are you thinking coming in here today? Anyone could see you!"

"Hey, relax! Nobody noticed me. Too many people out there." A male voice with a strong New York accent replied. "If we met one on one - now that would've made some heads turn, don't ya think?. "

"You have a point. What do you want?"

"The deal is done."

"Already?"

"You asked for the best, you got it. I'm meeting the acquirers tomorrow. Moneys' coming in by the end of the week. Then we can go splitsville."

Nick turned his head towards Francine as much as the small space allowed. "I know that voice." He mouthed.

"Who?" Francine mouthed back.

Nick scrunched his face, making it clear he didn't know.

"Good. How much?." Douglas carried on his conversation, unaware of the two agents hid under his bed.

"Six. Four me, two for you."

"We agreed to fifty-fifty!"

"Nah, pal. Things have changed. I want her share too."

"But that's not fair!"

"No, you don't get it. That's the only way to be fair. If you're trying to trick me, you got the wrong man."

"I didn't."

"Really? Because my little birdies inside the Washingtonn police department told me you don't have any alibi for the night of the fire and you're looking more and more suspicious by the minute. And they don't even know what I know."

"I swear, I'm telling the truth!" Douglas pleaded, his voice cracking.

"You better be telling the truth, because if I find out you tried to screw me over, you're gonna be dead sooner than your doctor told ya."

Nick and Francine heard the sound of footsteps once again, followed by the door closing. Nick lifted the bedspread, taking a tentative peek. When he was sure the coast was clear, he slid away from the bed and hopped on his feet. As he wiped his suit, Francine rolled out of the bed herself, holding a shoe much to his surprise.

"Look what I found." She said, showing him the sole where a cigarette butt stuck to the leather. "Douglas doesn't smoke, as far as I know."

Nick examined the stub on the heel closely. "Especially not skinny cigarettes. But we know someone who did."

Francine nodded. "You think it's possible Pauline found out Douglas' little scam and decided to blackmail him?

"He murders her to get rid of her once and for all and keep more money to himself, but her cigarette stub gets stuck under his shoe. The fence finds out about her death, and reclaims Pauline's piece of the pie." Nick pondered out loud.

"Sounds plausible to me. It would explain why Douglas defended her when we accused her. By the way, you don't happen to recalled who the fence is yet, do you?"

"I know a lot of fences."

"Of course you do."

"I'll get to it, just give me time."

"By any means, it's not like we're racing against time with two crimes to solve." Francine spat out tartly as she put the shoe back in its place, next to his twin under the bed.

Nick's jaw tensed, and when Francine raised her eyes she saw a flash of hurt running through his eyes.

She sighed, and her expression softened. "I'm sorry. This case has been driving me insane."

Nick nodded in understanding. "Maybe it's best we just go back home. Take a nap, refresh our minds before regrouping again tonight at the office. Let's say," he looked at his wristwatch "Six-thirty?"

"It's a date." Francine smiled, before realizing her faux-pas. Nick's eyes thinned out as a mischievous grin threatened to spread on his face.

"An office date. To work." She corrected herself.

"Of course," Nick replied raising a hand. "Shall we?" He then asked, pointing towards the door.

He took a tentative peek just like he did moments before under the bed, then, ever the gentleman, he let Francine take precedence.

"So, about tonight," He said once they were at the end of the main stairs, "Chinese or Italian?"

She looked pensive, tapping her chin. "Hmm, Thai."

"I gotta say, you're full of surprises, Francine."

"Oh, just you wait," Francine giggled, before being shoved aside by a large man in uniform.

"Washington DC metropolitan," The man flashed his badge. "Ma'am, please move aside."

Francine obeyed, she and Nick staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of their eyes. The crowd's chatter fizzled out at the speed of light as the policeman and his partner moved through them to find Douglas.

"Douglas Newlyn, you're under arrest for Insurance fraud," The policeman who shoved Francine said as his partner handcuffed the man in question, "The murder of Pauline Newlyn and the attempted murder of Rex Holbrook." He then proceeded to recite to Douglas his Miranda rights.

"Case closed, I guessed?" Nick told Francine without a hint of his usual irony as Douglas passed by them with his two escorts.

Francine didn't even turn to look at him. All she could say was a hushed "He called me Ma'am."


End file.
